


Smells Like Home

by andonewillbringhisfall



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 23:16:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14271666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andonewillbringhisfall/pseuds/andonewillbringhisfall
Summary: Baz has been missing for weeks, and Simon can barely smell him in the room anymore.





	Smells Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic from my Tumblr.

The room barely smells like him anymore.

It’s stupid that I miss it, the pretentious, stuffy cedar and bergamot smell, but I do. It’s stupid that I miss him, the pretentious brat, the vampire, the evil git who torments me and plots to kill me, but I do. It just isn’t Watford without him; it’s not home. He belongs here, in this room at the top of Mummers House, and it doesn’t feel right that he’s gone.

It takes me hours to fall asleep at night. The room is too still, too dead. I draw in a breath, but there’s nothing but the faint yet tangible smell of smoke. The smell grows stronger as I become more restless and my magic stirs.

I sigh, staring across at Baz’s empty bed. I should feel peaceful, reassured to know that he’s not here. I should be enjoying the calm and the solitude, but I can’t stop fretting. He could be anywhere; he could be plotting, or he could be hurt. I’d rather see him asleep than not know.

I’ve just gotten so used to having him here that I can’t feel at ease when he’s gone. I sigh, sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The moon is full tonight, shining its pale light through the window, onto Baz’s perfectly made, cold and untouched bed. I step across the space between the beds and crawl under his covers.

I inhale deeply and close my eyes, surrounded by the scent of cedar and bergamot. I fall asleep.

*

The next night, I lie awake for twenty minutes before crossing the room to climb into Baz’s bed. The room looks different from here. I bury my head in the pillow and sleep.

*

Every night, the smell fades slightly, and Baz doesn’t return. The sheets start to smell like smoke, but I can still sense him underneath it. He’s slept here for the last seven years and I couldn’t get rid of him this easily; I wouldn’t dare try. I curl up under the covers and hope that wherever he is, he’s not plotting to hurt me, and he’s safe.

*

When I wake up, there’s a figure lying in my bed.

There’s no mistaking the sharp angles of his shoulders and the feather-soft black hair on my pillow. Baz is back.

I throw back the covers and practically fly out of his bed, only just managing to hold back a yelp and keep from waking him. I don’t know why he’s in my bed. I don’t know why he didn’t wake me to snarl at me when he found me sleeping on his side of the room. Heart racing, I pull the covers back as neatly as I can, and tiptoe into the bathroom.

*

He’s dressed and standing by his wardrobe when I come out.

‘You’re back,’ I say, lingering by the bathroom door.

‘Yes. Tough luck, Snow,’ he says.

I huff, and leave the room to head down to breakfast.

I’m not sure what to think. I keep expecting him to cut me down for sleeping in his bed, or at least ask for an explanation, but he never mentions it. I crawl into my own bed that night, and Baz goes to his, and I close my eyes surrounded by his scent.

He’s home.


End file.
